My Father's House
by Tonga
Summary: Draco returns home after a long time away.... please RR!


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Author's Note:

This is a story influenced by the works of many fanfic authors and, of course, by JK Rowling- if not for her the various fanfiction authors would not have written their works. The song, My Father's House, belongs to Kenny Loggins, a wonderful song and a wonderful artist.

Muchas gracias to Lizzy for her beta!

Please R/R. I live for reviews… J .

My Father's House

Draco Malfoy stood just inside the doorway of an old, corroding house. He looked around sadly at what once had been a glorious manor, now vines ran rampant through the house and small mice scurried here and there. As a child Draco had lived in this very house, with his caring mother and callous father. His mother may have been caring, a bit overprotective perhaps, but anything that his father wished her to do she did obediently. His father did have some small fraction of decency, buried very deep underneath all the cold, vicious exterior. He did grant Draco his every whim and desire, but the repercussions that Draco paid for it were mighty. It was amusing now, that he had returned to this house, to remember everything he had tried so long to forget.

"Daddy?"

It was almost uncanny how his son's eyes mirrored the exact same shape and colour of his fathers. How often Draco himself heard his father when he spoke, or saw him in the mirror when looking at his own reflection.

Draco walked nearer to the small boy standing outside the door, a woman standing a few yards behind him in the once beautifully manicured yard. His son, his eldest and only at the moment, and his wife, a beautiful, caring woman who had helped him as he had left all of these memories behind- or had tried to.

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In my voice

In my smile

In the eyes of my eldest child

You appear ever near in my life

In a dream

I am now

Standing still in My Father's House

And I try another time to walk away

He was still fighting his past, trying to forget all that had happened. The crazed lunacy with which his father had pursued the Dark Arts, the madness that he possessed in his attempts to deliver a classmate to his master, and the eagerness he expressed when asking Draco to follow in his steps.

Draco could easily remember that day. It had the quality of a dream to it, the surrealness that had made him feel that at the time it was just a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but just a dream. If only that had been the case…

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"My son," his father had said as Draco had entered his father's lavish study, "You are all of a man today. It is time for you to begin on the path to greatness."

"And how is that Father?"

"You have been with me on business before," his father had said slowly, looking down at a small pile of papers on his desk, "The business of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Father," Draco had replied fighting the urge to run from the room. He had never enjoyed those trips with his father, but he could not disobey after all that had been done for him.

"The Dark Lord has come to a decision," his father had said with a twinkle in his eye, one that Draco knew was anything but friendly.

"And what is that Father?"

"That you are at the appropriate age to begin serving his cause," his father had said with much excitement, "To help deliver the last Potter to him."

"Father," Draco had said cautiously, for declining the offer would be very dangerous, "How can I help?"

"You are positioned at Hogwarts with the boy, you will keep us informed of his activities, then when the time is right you will be the one to bring him to us."

"Wouldn't someone find me out though," Draco had said, "If they did the entire mission would be obsolete."

"You are clever in thinking that," his father had said proudly, "But the Dark Lord will teach you the methods with which you will be taking Harry Potter."

Something in Draco had snapped that day. He had no idea what it was, or why it had, but for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy did not follow his father's exact orders. Sure, he had met with the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters, let them welcome him into the ring, and listen to his first test. 

Voldemort had explained that bringing Harry to him was such an easy task for Draco, since he was a powerful wizard in his own right, and that when Harry had been delivered Draco would receive the Dark Mark and be an official member of the Death Eaters.

Draco had not carried out his orders though. He had played his father until time for term to begin at Hogwarts, then once he was in the protection of Hogwarts went straight to Dumbledore and Harry. To this day he did not know why he had done this, just that it was something that had to be done. He knew it felt better to help Harry than to be his downfall, which he seriously doubted he could have done.

Upon hearing of his sons treachery Lucius Malfoy had done the only thing he knew to do to hurt Draco- he arranged for Draco's mother, Narcissa, to have a rather tragic accident.

With his mother gone Draco had became the one thing nobody had expected- a full-fledged adversary against the Dark Arts, and one of the greatest resources of the Death Eaters identities. Upon this another surprise slapped Draco across the face- Harry and his gang of friends began accepting him as one of their own. During the year at Hogwarts Harry and Draco went from passionately loathing one another to agreeable speaking terms to being fairly good friends. Draco had been more than surprised at what Harry could teach him, and had began absorbing all he could from Harry and turning away from what his father had wanted him to be, trying to become what he wanted to be.

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I learned of music and laughter

From the child that you hid in your eyes

And it's his song I sing

Now who will sing for me?

Draco walked towards the front of the house, towards the doorway where his young son stood and his wife not far behind. Funny, he actually had Harry to thank for all this. Had it not been for Harry he would have never met his wife, and therefore would not have his son or anything else that he possessed at this point in time.

"Daddy?" the boy asked again, "What is this place?"

"It was my home, long ago," Draco replied looking down at his son, "But I've moved on from here."

"So why are we here?"

"To take a look around. Why don't you go stand with your mother, it isn't safe in here."

Draco watched as his son scampered off the porch and to his mother's side, curiosity all over his face and a twinkle in his eye. His wife looked very concerned, Draco smiled at her and shook his head, then went back into the house, where all the memories were.

_Harry wasn't to receive all the credit,_ Draco told himself, _I'd like to think that those queasy feelings I'd get when around my father were a little more than nerves. That I wanted to be who I am today all along._

There were times when Draco had wished that he had been anywhere but where he was- and most of those times had been when he was living with his father in this house. And sometimes Draco caught the smallest glimmer of discontent from his father, unhappiness that he was almost sure was due to his dealings with the Dark Arts.

"Draco?"

He turned to find his wife standing just inside the crumbling entryway.

"Yes dear?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for something."

"What is it, maybe I could help you find it."

"I'm not sure," Draco said, "Why don't you wait outside where it's safe."

His wife came up to him and pecked him on the cheek, then wiped her hand over the place she had kissed him.

"I hope you find whatever it is you are looking for," she said, "Maybe then you'll be free of this torture."

"I'm starting to wonder."

She smiled and picked her way back towards the door, pausing before she stepped out.

"You'll find what you are looking for."

"I wish I had your confidence in that."

He watched her make her way back towards a towering tree where their son was playing. Sighing he made his way to the sweeping grand staircase and began to carefully climb it, driven by some wild urge to put this all behind him.

His father's study sat at the top of the staircase, Draco pushed the door and it obediently swung open. Inside was everything that Draco remembered- it must have sat like this for a couple of decades. The only difference in the study now and the study he remembered was the coat of dust that had settled on everything- and a notebook left open on the desk.

His father had been an orderly person, a place for everything and everything in its place. This notebook was out of place in the well-organized room, Draco went over to pick it up. There was what appeared to be a journal entry written there, dated months previous.

_I am not sure why I am here, what I have done… I have turned my own son against me… killing his mother and my wife… I regret all that I have done in this life… I wish I had had the courage Draco did to turn away from this life…_

Draco stared at the entry, then picked the notebook up and tore the page from it. He folded the page and stuck it in his pocket, then closed the journal and placed it on the shelf.__

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All my life a voice inside

Has whispered 'set me free'

All this time

Has it been

You or me?

It had to be the last entry his father had written. A plea for forgiveness almost, words of regret and shame, and a resolution to change himself- if only someone would pull him up from the gutter of life.

Draco shook his head, he was on his way to crossing the road, first Harry, then his wife, and now his son were pulling him across. He understood now why he couldn't let go of all the memories, why they had haunted him, and why he had been driven by obsession to return here upon his father's death. He, Draco Malfoy, would not rest easily until he had forgiven his father. He would be doomed to follow if not exactly his father's footsteps then very close to them.

He may have a loving wife, a wonderful son, and a warm home but his father's memory kept him firmly in-between his past and the life he wanted. If he forgave his father all the memories would be let go- but how do you forgive someone who has utterly destroyed you?

His father had given him to Voldemort as a tool- it hadn't worked but the fact remained, he had killed his mother to settle the score with Draco- killing a part of himself along the way, and then soon after Draco had abandoned his father as a lost cause, now the pages seemed to be turning.

But his father had written of regret. And it had to be truth, didn't it? It had been wrote in his personal journal, left in his study, where no one would find it- except Draco. There was pity for his father somewhere deep inside, but more the kind of pity you get when you know that things turned out exactly like you knew they would. Would forgiving his father be such an awful thing? _No_, Draco thought, _It would be putting his memory to rest, and helping me get on with my life. I don't want to end up alone with nothing, I don't want to die like this._

Draco pulled the journal back off the shelf and opened it to its last page. He sat the notebook on the desk and pulled his fathers straight-backed mahogany chair out, then sat in the stiff, uncomfortable chair and loaded the eagle feather quill with ink from the almost dry well. He poised the pen above the page for a moment and then began to write. He continued like this for several minutes then at last placed the quill back in the ink well and stood. Draco admired his work for a moment then returned to the foyer he had been in earlier. He crossed the yard to where his wife and child were waiting, both looking very concerned, but smiling with relief at Draco's emergence from the house.

Draco smiled back at them, picking up his son and placing him on his shoulders. He grabbed his wife's hand with his free one and started leading them from the grounds and back towards the car they had enchanted to fly up here. After his son was secured in the back seat and his wife sitting comfortably in the passenger seat Draco turned for one last look at his home, and felt the kind of peace and relief he hadn't in years. He got into the car and started it up, taking his family far away from the house, and leaving behind a message. 

Upstairs in Lucius' study a wind blew through the cracked window ruffled a page of paper. Words stood out on it reading…

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Father-

I know it has been long since I last spoke with you, and I am truly sorry for all that has come between us. I may still be angry with you for murdering my mother, and for giving my life to a cause I did not claim, but I forgive you.

I wish you could see your grandson, he looks like you a bit, I myself see you whenever I look into the mirror. I am at peace with my life, and have had many wonderful people to help me along the way- including Harry.

I do not hold you accountable for any of the pain that others suffered at your hands, I merely believe that you would have made wiser choices if not for the Dark Lord. 

I truly do forgive you, and in death, I hope you are at peace.

Your Son, Always

Draco Malfoy

I wait from someone to save me

Just like you did all your life

Will I find my home

Or die alone like you?


End file.
